Rough Landing
by celinenaville
Summary: Having made a secret pact with Hannibal, Murdock attempts to adjust to his new life at the VA. The team calls upon him to assist on his first mission since their escape from prison, but can he overcome his past trauma and fly once more?


**Rough Landing **

**Rated: T...some mild language.**

**Summary: Murdock adjusts to his new life at the VA. He is finally called upon to help the team on a mission, but can he overcome the demons of his past and fly again?**

**category: Angst**

**Please read and review...feedback is always greeted with open arms and drooling anticipation...and sometimes happy dances.**

**Rough Landing.**

Murdock didn't know exactly when the walls of the VA became less of a prison and transformed into a home. Somewhere between therapy sessions and art lessons, somewhere between medication and alone time, he began to adapt.

There was a perverse freedom in his confinement. Any idea that occurred to him, he acted on. He decorated his headboard with toilet paper. He made his blankets into a tent. He spoke with a French accent with the male staff and a German one with the female staff. It made it interesting when he was in the presence of both at once – a challenge to keep his dialects straight. He decided to hop on one foot for an entire day and to only quote Shakespearean villains if people asked him what he was doing.

It kept him amused. He learn which caretakers actually cared about him and which ones were just doing a job. He made it difficult for the latter.

He read continuously and matched wits with the psychiatrist – without Dr. Richter knowing what he was doing, of course. He decided what symptoms to present – and which ones – sometimes the _real _ones- to hide. He decided which medications to take and found creative ways of disposing of ones he didn't want .

And he waited for Face to break him out.

Contact with the team was sparse at best. At first the isolation felt like a physical wound, but slowly, he grew used to the loneliness and sometimes he embraced it. It had become a friend. And remembering had become the enemy.

From time to time, Hannibal checked in with a friendly call. They never talked about anything serious, of course, but rather danced around the issue in the strange way that men are so adept at. Hannibal couched his inqueries with humor. Murdock answered with appropriate banter, and so life went.

Eventually, Murdock discovered that idleness was his enemy. It made him sad and anxious – but the more he kept occupied- the quieter the demons in his mind became. Through his tribulations he was happy to find that his sense of humor never abandoned him. After a while, the only thing he really missed was human contact, especially the company of women. He could flirt with the nurses, of course, but they were too professional to be receptive to his advances.

And so he waited for the team to break him out. Faceman's visits, at first, were few and far between. Sometimes months went by without a word from the team.

But then one day, a package arrived for him – it was an Atari to hook to the sad black-and-white television he was was allowed to watch. Inside was a note with Face's handwriting.' Happy birthday! Now don't let yourself get addicted. See you soon –'

It seemed like mana from heaven. It meant more than any gift ever had. Someone thought about him sometimes. Someone remembered him. Contrary to the warning – Murdock did get addicted. It occupied his mind, and he was thankful that the staff seemed in no hurry to take it away.

Murdock made his room as comfortable and homey as possible. Posters of things he loved – scattered possessions. He redecorated it frequently. He grew to like playing the crazy role. The only problem was that he found that the more he acted the part, the more difficult it became to turn the switch back off. And after a time, he realized he didn't want to.

Murdock stretched out on his bunk and laced his hands behind his head. His eyes traced the old water stains on the ceiling for the millionth time, and he thought of flying.

" Mr. Murdock?" There was a knock on the door. Murdock turned his head slightly and watched the waifish figure of one of the newer nurses enter.

He smiled lazily. She was one of the nice ones. "Hey Chiquita." She had a tray with several little white cups filled with little pills and a glass of water.

Murdock sat up and she smiled tentatively. He had a sinking feeling she might not last here long. She had no air of authority, then her meekness would surely be perceived as weakness by the more aggressive people that she dealt with.

"The doctor has prescribed some new medication for you."

Murdock raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yes."

"May I ask what it is ?"

She blinked. "Oh, of course… umm… Mr. Murdock?"

Murdock had spontaneously converted his pillowcase into a hat. He watched her face show some distress. "I… Um… Have a list of what it is somewhere."

He said blinking at her as if pillowcase hats were the most normal thing in the world and started to lace his Chuck Taylor's together.

"Mr. Murdock, don't you think you're going to trip if you walk like that?"

"Nah, " he replied, "I can hop."

"Oh." She paused. "Here it is. It's a new antipsychotic… Were still trying to figure out what dose will make you feel better." She smiled sweetly. "We can get you to your old self again."

Murdock inwardly flinched at the tones used. The same she would use on a young child. The worst employees spoke to him like he was subhuman. The best like he was a toddler. He grabbed two of the cups – dumped the pills into his mouth and rinsed them down, then grabbed two more and hopped in a circle, surreptitiously dumping the contents of one into his pillowcase hat and making a show of downing the other one.

She took his arm to slow him down. "Okay. Please don't do that, I'm afraid you'll fall."

He sat down, pulled the pillowcase off of his head and threw it on the bed. "Okay." He looked crestfallen.

She unlaced his shoes and retied them as she talked. "I just don't want you to hurt yourself."

"Me either," he said quietly.

Their eyes met briefly as she stood back up. She hesitated and blinked, confused, as if she'd momentarily seen through his guile. "It gets boring in here you know." He said.

"Oh." She touched his arm. "I know. But you'll be out soon. You'll be your old self again."

He shook his head sadly. "No. I won't."

"Do you need to talk about it?"

Murdock shrugged. "Thank you, ma'am. But I think I've been talked to death at this point.… There's only so much that talking can do for you, you know?"

She nodded. "You have a good day. Okay?"

She started forward and bumped into a figure in a doctor's coat entering. "Oh, Dr. I'm so sorry. I didn't see you."

"It's okay, nurse Hathaway," said a familiar voice.

Murdock's heart jumped, but he made sure to hide his reaction. Not that the nurse would notice, she seemed too startled herself to be observant of her patient's reaction.

Face pushed by her. "Nurse, you haven't given Mr. Murdock the trazodone have you?" He asked, glancing at a chart his hand.

She furrowed her brow. "Why, yes. The orders are here."

"Oh no!" The Doctor's eyebrows furrowed. "Trazodone can't be mixed with Elavil!"

She stopped. "They can't?"

"No, of course not." He shook his head. "I'm going to need Murdock for some blood work. Please fetch me a wheelchair."

She hurried off and Face shut the door.

"Am I gonna die, Doc?" Murdock asked, slipping on his battered leather jacket.

Face rolled his eyes. "Murdock, act weird."

"Wanna be more specific, Face? Weird covers a lot of territory in here."

Face glanced out of the barred window on the door. "She's coming!" He hissed, " act like you're having a reaction to the medication."

Without hesitation, Murdock dropped to the floor, convulsing.

The nurse rushed to him. "Oh, no!"

Faceman's hands were on him, pulling him to his feet. "Easy," he said, slamming him into the wheelchair. "I've got him. I'm have to take him downstairs. Please continue your rounds."

She looked distressed. Very distressed. "But…"

"Don't worry, I've caught it in time. He'll be fine, nurse." Face had already pushed Murdock into the elevator. The doors snapped shut.

"Murdock, you can stop convulsing now."

Murdock kept his seizures up for another few seconds for good measure. Face grabbed his shoulder and hauled him to his feet. "Act normal, were going to stroll out of here."

Murdock shrugged, walking beside his friend. "Normal? Specifics, please."

Face sighed. "Do the opposite of everything that comes naturally to you."

They walked out and Face audibly let out a breath. "We need you to fly us to Mexico."

Murdock smiled, "I thought you'd never ask." Face pulled off his doctor's coat and shoved it into the back seat of his Corvette. "Believe me, if it were up to me, I wouldn't."

Murdock took his baseball cap out of his jacket pocket and put it on his head. He never felt quite himself without it. "You know, crows are part of the Corvid family."

Face gave him a measuring look. "Are you feeling all right?"

Murdock rested his arm on the window and stretched his legs out before him. "Feeling better now that I'm with you, muchacho."

Murdock's heart thumped against his ribs as he caught sight of the chopper Face had scammed for him. It was an odd mix of adrenaline and nerves. He squared his shoulders and jogged forward. It was the first bird he'd seen since his breakdown. He leapt into the pilot seat without any hesitancy and glanced at the interior, familiarizing himself with the controls.

The blades whirled to life with a familiar grown, and suddenly, the nerves sprang into a sort of breathlessness. He closed his eyes and felt perspiration start on his forehead as he thought of the terrors of the jungle that haunted his waking moments. Screams and gunfire and chopper blades. He took a deep breath through his nose and blinked away the sudden tears that threatened to fill his eyes. 'I'm not going to be afraid to fly. I love this. This is me. This is who I am.'

"Okay Capt'n." Hannibal's voice broke through his thoughts. He opened his eyes to see the kernel, teeth clenched on his ever present cigar, studying him closely, "We got BA sedated in the back seat. Let's go!"

Murdock reflexively put his sweaty palm around the stick and up the chopper rose like a giant dragonfly. The nerves gave way to a sense of freedom as arise and stretched endlessly before him.

"If you take a look to your left you will see trees." He said calmly. "To your right, more trees. You may notice that trees are generally green from the air." He skimmed along the tops before gaining more height. "You may also note that it is generally advisable not to hit them with aircraft if it all possible."

He wasn't certain if his rambling to amuse his passengers, or to comfort himself. He suspected the latter, but either way, his running commentary kept his mind off of the uncomfortable sensation in his stomach.

"How's it going, Capt'n?" Hannibal was watching him again with that cool, measuring gaze. Was there nothing the man didn't catch?

Murdock cleared his throat. "Umm... I'm good, Colonel" He added more altitude. "Up we go – nice and easy."

"Nice and easy," Hannibal repeated. The older man reached over and rested a hand on the captain's shoulder. Murdock fell Hannibal's fingers give a solid squeeze through the broken and leather of his bomber. "You belong up here." Hannibal's voice carried a passionate conviction. Murdock swallowed and nodded. There was really nothing he could think of to say.

Later, when they reached the rather remote landing strip where a small puddle jumper was awaiting them fueled and ready to go for Mexico, Murdock briefly wondered if the chopper ride had been necessary. Surely they could leave from a less remote airstrip? Surely they could have found some other way here if they wanted to.

It almost felt as if Hannibal were testing him as if the Colonel wanted to see what he could take. One flight. Two? Chopper, puddle jumper, plane?

Well, the Colonel's faith would not be misplaced. Murdock had never let fear rule his life before -he'd be damned if he'd let it now no matter how much it wanted to. In fact, the puddle jumper elicited the direct opposite of his reaction to the chopper; the minute the engine soared to life and he headed down the runway, Murdock felt something in his soul awaken with a surge of pure adrenaline. He let out a whoop of unbridled joy as he lifted off the runway. Free! He was free! No sounds of dying soldiers, no tepid stink of jungle, no confining walls of the VA, just pure, blue sky and unending joy… Himself and the sky, and his team. His life was complete.

Hannibal looked at him with a smile tugging the corners of his mouth. "How are you feeling, Captain?"

Murdock flashed a toothy grin that lit up his face like a child on Christmas morning. "For the first time in a long time – I'm good, Colonel"

Hannibal bit off the end of his cigar. "Welcome home, Murdock."

Seven days later, as Face dropped him off at the VA, Hannibal's words echoed in his head. _Welcome home, Murdock._ Home. When did _this_ place become home? How long did he have to stay here? With that thought, his mind spun out of control plunging him back into his sorrow and he found himself alone in his barred room, shivering, his jacket spread across his lap like a blanket. The tiger on the back stared up at him, mouth frozen in a roar that never came.

He thought of flying, his favorite thing in the world now turned sideways on nights when he lay awake and thought of the terrors of the jungle mixed with chopper blades. The chopper blades could never have the same clean sense of freedom again. Oh, he still loved them – but it was a tainted love – like a marriage gone badly.

But his taste of the plane… now that was pure. That was "the Jazz." That was the familiar riff he loved. He felt like himself behind those controls. Murdock traced his hands over the worn leather of his bomber. In these months it had become his one valued possession. The tiger on it, his secret symbol. A talisman he quietly carried with him and spoke out no one. He felt that the others had them to. Hannibal-his cigar. His leather gloves. BA – his gold. His Mohawk. Face – well, Face was the chameleon. Perhaps the chameleon needed nothing but himself. Things that remind you of who you are get in the way when you're trying to be somebody else.

And that led the thoughts of Face. Murdock had had a grand time keeping up his lunatic act – which drove BA crazy. It perplexed Face, who could not seem to discern how much of it was bluff and how much was earnest. Keeping him guessing. He liked keeping Faceman a little off-balance. It became a personal challenge to out con the con. At first the lieutenant balked, but in their week together Face began to play along with Murdock's antics like an older brother indulging his younger sibling.

And Murdock unwittingly proved to himself, with a dawning realization, that Face loved him. Sane or not, nothing about their friendship had changed. And for some reason, that made him want to cry. Murdock pulled his knees up to his chest and laid his head against them and stifled sob. Suddenly, the quiet nurse was beside him. He gave a start – he hadn't even heard her enter.

"Mister Murdock," she crouched down next to him. Her voice was patient and gentle. He looked at her blearily and his eyes focused on her name tag. Nurse Hathaway.

He tried a halfhearted smile. "Let me guess – check out is at noon?"

She hesitantly reached out and took one of his hands in hers and gave a little squeeze. "Wherever you're going in your mind right now – don't stay there," she said softly. "You're not in 'Nam anymore, you're home now."

_Welcome home, Captain_.

Murdock shook his head, marveling at the warmth of that small, fragile hand. "But, you know what they say… You can never go home again."

"You can always go home again. That's what hope is – someplace you can always go to when life knocks you down." Her blue eyes were kind.

Another half sob escaped him, he swallowed back tears, feeling vaguely emasculated to be acting this way… But he couldn't play the game right now. He didn't have it in him. Whatever it took to pretend that all was fine had been used up in the last few days.

"I let myself fall into a chasm… And once I started falling I… I couldn't stop. And now, well now I don't know how to climb back out, you know?" He said, praying she would somehow understand.

"Maybe you don't need to climb out. Maybe there's another way, maybe that chasm isn't as deep as you think it is... but don't dwell the darkness, Mr. Murdock. Find that speck of light and hold onto it." She gave his hand one last squeeze and stood up. "I have to make my rounds."

Murdock watched her go and flexed his fingers. He still felt the warmth of her touch. He ran a hand over his face and set his jaw, slowly pulling himself to his feet. This was enough for now. It had to be. He shut the door of his mind on the jungle and started to make the long walk back home.


End file.
